


I Was a Male War Bride

by coucherdesoleil



Series: Water and Fire [2]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7343980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coucherdesoleil/pseuds/coucherdesoleil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus/Ivanova romance and speculation for the end of the show. This one is actually a companion story to 'Water and Fire' (both occur at the same time but focus on different characters). Both stories also diverge from canon somewhere in season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one is Marcus/Ivanova romance and speculation for the end of the show. This one is actually a companion story to 'Water and Fire' (both occur at the same time but focus on different characters). Both stories also diverge from canon somewhere in season 4.
> 
> The title, incidentally, is quite tongue in cheek. It's the name of a Cary Grant movie.

Disclaimers: I don't own this and no money is being made.

The title, incidentally, is quite tongue in cheek. It's the name of a Cary Grant movie.

NB: Italics indicate characters' thoughts.

* * *

"Hello Mama. How are you today?"

Sophia Ivanova did not respond.

That was the norm these days. It had started ten years before, Psi-Corps showing up at their door like clockwork. It was the law.

One did not question the law.

Meanwhile, a woman, wife and mother, lay disappearing.

"Suzatchka..." The whisper was barely audible.

"Yes Mama?" But there was no response.

* * *

"Susan, would you mind fetching me another cup of tea?"

Ten year old Susan got up from the couch she was lying on, grumbling.

Her father Andrei watched her leave. She was so very much like him, with her vivid imagination and creative mind, and that damn stubbornness.

It was a trait he had appreciated when it had come to building his life, as it had permitted him to endure what things needed to be endured. Still, it drove him insane when it surfaced in his child. His son Ganja, although quite a determined lad, had blessedly not shown signs of it. Susan, on the other hand, seemed to take a perverse pleasure in doing things which would make him angry. He remembered one incident in which she had insulted a dinner guest of theirs. Granted, the man had been insufferably pompous: convinced his conclusions pertaining to everything in life were death defying wisdom. And granted, her way of deflating the man had been most...creative. Despite himself, he chuckled as he recalled the way she had somehow managed to turn every sentence their guest had uttered into utter ridicule by simply repeating everything he said, with interesting inflections of her voice. Ganja, Sophia, and the other guests had all sat, breathing strangely as they tried to contain their laughter, as this performance went on. The guest in question had finally left, never to return to a place where he was to be treated in such a "revolting fashion". But it had angered him. She was his child, and their guest had been her elder, and both facts demanded she behave appropriately.

* * *

(A few days later)

His love, his Sophia was dead.

They had found her, two days before, a vial of pills still clutched in her hand.

The funeral and Shiva had been yesterday, and had been filled with visits by distant relatives -which had not much interest in any of them before- and mostly forgotten acquaintances come to pay their respects.

Both Ganja and Susan had been stoic. No outbursts, no tears.

Perhaps for them, as for him, tears could not come because, to his heart, it was impossible that she was gone.

It had only become possible for him in the last day or so, whenever his soul ripped through the veneer-daze of shock which surrounded him. Looking up at the stars beyond what was left of his home, that night, he swore his children would have the courage to fight as he had not. He promised himself he would forge them, akin to steel, so that they would be able to fight even that which appeared inevitable.

 _On the life of my children I swear it._ He thought to himself.

* * *

"Marcus, what are you doing?"

He looked down to see the face of the fair-haired young woman who spoke to him.

He was rather precariously perched atop a pile of rocks facing a forest, which had been host to many a childish game for him, in years past.

"Morwenna, what are you doing here?" He said, not answering her question.

She held out her hand to him, smiling.

After a moment, he took the proffered hand and let her help him down. "I came to tell you something." She said eagerly. "But first things first: what's got you so preoccupied? Because I'm assuming that's the reason you've been avoiding me for the past few days..."

He sighed. "Oh, I don't know that it's anything important. It's just..."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. It's Dylan. He's come back from wherever the hell he went to for almost two years, and he wants me to go with him."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows rose.

"He also wants me to go with him to speak with the Governor. He says we need to evacuate, that we need to leave here."

"What? Why the hell would we have to do that?"

"I don't know!" He said, rather abruptly. He and Dylan had already had words on the subject. Who the hell did Dylan think he was, anyway, barging in here like that after two years?

Looking back at Morwenna, Marcus's expression softened.

"Sorry." He said, smiling. "Now what's the news that's got you so excited?"

She looked up into his eyes. "I've got the claim, Marcus."

"The one your father promised you?"

She laughed delightedly. "Yes! The *very* rich in ore deposit claim! The one he promised he would give me *someday*, when I was old enough..."

"Aha! *That* one." Marcus said teasingly. She gave him a mock dirty look. They had always gotten along.

Actually, they had always *more* than gotten along, since Marcus doubted the deep friendship which existed between them could be fully encompassed by 'getting along'. Her features suddenly became serious, betraying anxiety.

"Marcus..." She said, visibly hesitant about something. Then she seemed to desperately gather her courage, and startled him.

"I love you Marcus." She said simply. And shocked him even more by bridging the distance between them and pressing her lips to his.

"Morwenna?" He gasped when he had managed to extricate himself. "What the..."

Taking in his shocked expression, and general lack of encouraging response, she fled.

* * *

He hadn't seen her for almost a week, though he had at first tried to find her.

He had eventually decided, however, that perhaps the best thing to do was to put some distance between them for a while. And so he had decided to leave, accepting a temporary job offer which promised to take him outside the colony's solar system for a few days.

"But *why* won't you listen to me Marcus? I'm telling you they'll be here soon!" Dylan had said to him at the time.

Marcus had simply ignored him. He had been very close to his brother, years before. When their parents had died in a landslide in one of the colony's large mines, Marcus had been only eight years old. Dylan, being of legal age, had taken his little brother in, and taken care of him as best he could. Once he was old enough, Marcus had insisted on fending for himself, moving out and taking several temporary jobs mining ore. There was always work for those who wanted it... And he had saved, so as to buy his own claim, someday. But despite Marcus's fierce independence, both brothers had stayed close. Then Dylan had simply left, with no explanation and without telling anyone where he was going. Marcus had been hurt, but had learned to live with it.

Then Dylan had come back, spouting triumph and glory of galactic proportions, as well dire warnings, which had only served to exasperate Marcus.

Their colony did not even have an official name, indeed, it was still known to its inhabitants by star chart designation. Being so far from galactic traffic, it had no strategic value, and though rich in certain kinds of ore, it was hardly valuable enough to attract much attention. Therefore, the idea that anyone would want to bother them had appeared ludicrous to Marcus, as well as to everyone else on the colony.

And so Marcus had left, leaving Dylan to his delusions. When he came back, his home was no more.

* * *

[Author's note: I need to thank my beta readers for this, Miki and Julie (and thanks to Rebekkah for offering). Thanks a bunch, your comments were *very* useful. BTW, I want to credit Julie with giving me a nice idea which I hadn't fully considered as concerns the direction of this story.]

* * *

She stared at the data crystal in her hand. So small. Everything else had been lost with him. He had sent this just a day before his ship was destroyed. She put it in the viewing slot for the twentieth time.

"Susan." He said. "I hope this message finds you well."

_No, not well. Never well again._

"I am sending you this message because..." He hesitated before continuing, his expression serious. "I wanted to ask your forgiveness."

 _You're asking forgiveness of me?_ She said wordlessly.

"I know you did not -and continue not to- approve of my decision to leave. But I should not have let it become the source of a rift between us. I do not regret my decision, how could I, when there is so much reason for me to be here? Here, I have found a purpose bigger than survival. But I cannot be completely happy knowing that you and father -my family- are away from me. And I also know the same must be true of you. So, by asking your forgiveness, I seek to bring you closer."

"Will you forgive Suzatchka?" His smile froze.

She took the crystal out of the viewing slot. There was nothing left to say. She put her head into her hands for a moment. Her father had not contacted her in three months.

They had had another of their arguments after she had decided to leave school for a year to travel. Despite the fact that she was now living away from home, he still seemed to believe in controlling her. Because of this they had had words, and now, when she had just learned of the destruction of her brother's ship on the newsnets two weeks before, her father was not responding to her calls.

Indeed, she thought, remembering the face on the screen a moment ago, there was nothing she could do. Nothing she could say, except to the walls of the threadbare room she found herself in.

Nothing to say, because there was no one left to say it to.

Suddenly she raised her head as a thought struck her. There was no one left to say it to, but perhaps... Perhaps there was a way for her to say it still.

She stood and went to get the address directory in her room, searching for the military recruitment offices.

* * *

Almost fourteen years had passed, and some things hadn't changed.

Susan Ivanova stared at the console before her, deep in thought.

"Susan?" A voice dragged her from sad remembrance. She took a deep breath, bringing herself back to the here and now.

"Yes Marcus?"

"Are you all right?"

"Just fine." She responded abruptly. Some things never changed. "What's our status?"

The Whitestar class ship they were on had taken some serious damage during the last fight, which required them to stay in Earth's solar system for a few days for repairs. They weren't the only ones. But it had been worth it.

"We'll be able to get underway in less than ten hours." She nodded. Suddenly she felt tired. It had been thirty-six hours.

"I think I'll go get some rest." He simply nodded.

* * *

 _Damn Minbari beds._ How anyone could sleep on the blasted inventions was something she couldn't fathom, and she had tried. Tried for two hours, in fact. Her back throbbed.

"Good for the back he says." She muttered to herself as she tried to find a tolerable position.

Their victory had been decisive. Days before the battle, they had managed to secure the help of another race of First Ones, discovered with Lorien's help, and had succesfully contacted the aliens at Sigma 957 obtaining their help as well. Again with his help.

Then they had received reports which indicated that the Vorlons had decided to head for Earth, reports which coincided with their newfound readiness. They had struck, driven off the Vorlons, and saved Earth and the rest of the galaxy. For a time, that is.

And now they were stuck here, knee-deep in glory.

She sat up. Damn beds. Two hours and she still hadn't been able to sleep, and that after being up for thirty-six hours. Thirty-six hours in which they had faced the end of their universe.

She lay back down, but sleep didn't come.

* * *

They got back to Babylon 5 four days later.

Celebrations were already underway, but somehow, those who had led the effort did not much have the heart for them.

And so it was that Susan Ivanova came to face another hour of the wolf alone in her quarters that same night. So much for glory.

She had repeated her father's ritual several times when she noticed the tears falling down her face.

Come morning, the wolf had settled in. 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

C&C was mercifully quiet as she walked in some mornings later.

Mercifully, because she had one mother of a headache, despite the oxy pills she'd taken.

"Commander?" She jumped and answered as quietly as she could, so as to minimize the ringing in her ears.

"Yes?" She almost whispered, and got handed a status report.

As she lowered herself gratefully into a chair, the Captain walked in. She engrossed herself in the report on her lap.

"Commander?" Sheridan said, looking down at her.

"Yes sir?"

He looked her over critically. "How are you today?" He asked.

"Just fine." She replied.

"Captain?" It was Corwin, over at his station. 

She gave thanks for his timing as Sheridan walked over to him. "Yes, Lieutenant?" He asked.

"I'm getting some strange readings from one from one of the explosive devices outside the station."

"Strange? How?"

"It seems to be malfunctioning. It's not responding to the usual signal." The explosives donated by the Gaim had been set up outside the station. Their detonating devices were tied into the station's communications array, so that, if need be, a signal could be transmitted which would detonate them, or disarm them by rendering the detonating devices inoperative.

The fact that the explosives were not responding to the signal was serious to say the least. Ivanova walked over to Corwin's station. She had personally overseen the installing of the devices after the Shadows had appeared before the station some time ago.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"I don't know!" Corwin replied. "I just can't get the one at position beta-nine in the grid to respond in any way to my signal."

She walked behind the console, next to Corwin, so she could see for herself. She checked keyed the sensors into the area, and did not notice anything out of the ordinary.

"Looks like we're safe for now." She said, pointing to the display. "But I'll get a team together to fix it."

* * *

The team she sent out finally managed to find the problem, which was a minor one, with the detonating device's input receiver.

Ivanova was staring at her console's readouts after the fact when Sheridan came up to her.

"Commander, may I have a word with you?" He asked quietly. Nodding, she followed him out into the hall.

She looked at him expectantly as he hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"Commander, I'm going to do something I've never done before."

Her eyebrows arched upwards in curiosity. "Sir?"

"I thought I could sit on this, but what happened today convinced me I've got no choice." He hesitated again, and Ivanova wondered at the pain in his eyes.

"I'm temporarily relieving you of duty."

Her jaw fell. "What? But... why?" She asked, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

"I...got a call from Stephen this morning. He wanted to discuss your recent physical."

"So?" She asked angrily, though she already had a good idea what this was about. She had taken the physical two days ago.

"You know as well as I do that it's against regs to have an elevated alcohol level during a duty shift. Yours was more than twice the permitted level." He stopped and looked at her mutely for a moment, then continued. "I'm sorry Susan."

"But why relieve me of duty?" Why didn't he just reprimand her, if it was just a one time thing?

He held her gaze. "You're not the only one who doesn't miss much around here. I wouldn't call myself any kind of commander if I didn't keep tabs on what was happening around me, and I think we can both agree that you need some time off. Both for yourself and the station."

She stared at him aghast, and he put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry Susan. I wish to God I didn't have to do this."

She stood for some time in silence, as she desperately tried to digest what was happening to her. Finally she spoke.

"So that's it. That's all you've got to say to me?"

He looked down, then back up. "I'm afraid so."

She nodded. "That's just fine. I hope you're all happy." She said, her voice strangled, before leaving.

* * *

The stars shone softly on the casket as it drifted out into space. Behind a viewport, Marcus watched it dance away, wondering at such courage.

Silently, he replayed a man's life in his mind, from their meeting at the Ranger training camp and eventual separation as they left for different missions in the so called 'Army of Light'. He remembered the wonder he had felt upon learning that the man had a wife and three children.

His name was Aaron. He had never complained and had never shown any bitterness at the fact that he saw his family so seldom. And this was not from lack of love, or from any desire to be apart from them. That had been obvious from the man's voice whenever his family had been mentioned: a voice that would choke, and yet speak volumes.

When the time had come for the Army of Light's stand before Earth, he had come to see Marcus, and made a request.

*Aaron.* Marcus said to himself as the casket drifted farther still.

When Marcus had heard of his death, he had acquiesced to the request and gone to a distant colony world in search of a woman named Alia. Upon finding her, he had given her her husband's final message. As per her request, Marcus came back and arranged for the remains to be sent out into space. It seemed Aaron would have wanted it that way.

With this duty done, Marcus stared into space, remembering the fierce pride and love in the woman's eyes.

*Aaron. Let your name be spoken.*

"Aaron." He said aloud, one last time.

* * *

After walking aimlessly about the station's corridors, he found himself in the Zocalo, and halted upon seeing a familiar face.

"Stephen! What's going on?" He asked, for the other had a fist around a drink and a bleary expression on his face. Turning towards him, Stephen tiredly took him in and indicated that he should sit down.

"What's going on Stephen?" Something was wrong, that was for sure.

Stephen looked him up and down, as if taking his measure.

"Stephen?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Or at least I will be." He hesitated for some minutes before continuing.

"I'm breaking my own rules by discussing this with you, but at this point..."

* * *

The corridors of Downbelow were dark as he patrolled them, examining every nook and cranny. One never knew, and he was getting desperate. It had been Stephen who had sent him here, although he had already had the idea himself.

Susan had disappeared three days ago, just after being relieved of duty. She had not been to her quarters, and no one had seen her. Both Sheridan and Stephen had asked him to take up the search, as security had so far come up empty-handed.

Stephen had not told him what was the cause of her behavior: all he had been told was that she was not herself. But what was going on?

*Understanding is not required.* He berated himself. He had to find her.

As he turned a darkened corner, his foot caught unexpectedly, and he tripped. Putting a hand down, he cushioned his fall.

 _What now?_ He asked himself. He had already been stuck full of all sorts of lovely substances on his treck. This part of the station was generally avoided even by lurkers, and was full of pipes, conduits...Your basic stinkhole.

As he walked a few steps into a nearby light source which was busily fizzing in and out of existence, he finally looked at his hand.

It was covered in blood.

Turning around, he grabbed the light source, aiming it a few feet away, and it was then that he saw her.

* * *

 

"Get me that blood substitute!"

"Coming through!"

"She's going into cardiac arrest!"

"Come on Susan! Don't you dare die on me now!"

Marcus stood, compulsively rubbing his hands as Franklin's med-team tried to resurrect Susan's heart.

"Marcus, I heard that you..." Sheridan, entering medlab, froze upon realizing exactly in what state Susan was in.

Meanwhile, the chaos worsened. After a short fight, she was hooked up, still unconscious, to some nearby monitors, and Franklin came towards them.

"What's going on, Stephen? Is she going to be all right?" Sheridan asked.

"We won't know for a while. She's in a coma right now, and I couldn't tell you when she'll come out of it. I'm...afraid it doesn't look very good." He hesitated before continuing.

"She may never come out of it." He grimly observed the others' shocked expressions. "I'd say that that's pretty unlikely though. What's much more likely is the possibility of her having permanent brain damage. We'll have to wait and see."

"How the *hell* did this happen?" Sheridan asked again tightly.

Stephen looked at Marcus, who did not answer.

"Well, from the type and extent of her injuries, it appears that she was stabbed, then left for dead. Marcus found her in Downbelow. All I can tell you is that her injuries seem to have been made by some very crude and blunt weapon, possibly a dull knife of some kind. That would certainly fit with the usual type of weapon that's down there. She wasn't breathing when Marcus found her -we haven't been able to determine exactly how long she'd been there... So she could have gone a long time without oxygen, which is why there's the possibility of brain damage. And the coma."

"What can we do?" Sheridan asked.

"Right now? Nothing. We'll just have to pray she comes out of this..." Franklin said softly.

Sheridan looked at him in disbelief.

"I don't believe this. What the hell... *Who* the hell did this to her?" Sheridan asked.

Marcus still said nothing.

* * *

"So, am I ever going to find out what happened?" Marcus asked four hours later, as Franklin was examining the settings on the life support machinery. Sheridan had left an hour ago for duty, after having personally seen to the investigation going on in Downbelow.

Franklin turned and looked at him for a moment before speaking.

"I'm sorry Marcus," He said at last, "but I just can't tell you. I know you mean well, but..."

Marcus caught his arm. "Listen to me Stephen. When -and I mean when- she wakes up, I plan on doing a great many things. First and foremost, I plan on making sure she gets well again. Now, if I'm going to do that, I'm going to need to know what happened. And it's pretty obvious that something was wrong with her even before this happened."

"Oh?"

"All you told me was that she was missing, and I found her unconscious and bleeding in Downbelow. Now, concerning what she was doing there, there would be two possibilities: she didn't get there on her own, or she did. Now, granted this is just a guess, but I'd venture to say that Downbelow is not one of her favorite haunts. And from yours and everyone's behavior, I'd guess she wasn't kidnapped. So what was she doing there? And another thing: I've heard *legends* concerning Susan Ivanova's ability to take care of herself. So how exactly did this happen to her?"

Marcus looked meaningfully at him, then continued. "This is important to me Stephen. You don't know how much. Please." His tone was deadly earnest. Gone was the wheedling kind of pleading that Franklin had become used to seeing in his friend as he teased him about something or other.

"I'll have to...think about it." Stephen said, unsure. He had sworn an oath. Marcus turned away from him and walked back to the bedside.

* * *

Forty-eight hours had passed, and there was still no change. Sheridan had come and gone several times, as had various others, including Franklin.

Marcus had stayed.

Forty-eight hours after he sat, unmoving, by her bedside. He knew she would have hated being like this: she had always needed to know exactly where she stood, always needed to be in control. It was the same for him. Being vulnerable was just too dangerous.

*I wonder if she can hear me.* He took her hand, pressed it to his lips.

"Susan, I need you to pull yourself out of this." He said softly. "For you, and because I know that if you don't, I won't either." He felt tears fill his eyes. "I don't think I could go on if I lost you."

"I love you Susan. And right now I really wonder why I never told you that before." Setting her hand down, he put his head in his hands.

Stephen walked away from the room. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop.

* * *

"Marcus?" It was three hours later when Franklin came in again. Marcus looked haggard, with deep circles under his eyes.

"Yes Stephen?" Franklin paused for a moment.

After some hesitation, he began to tell Marcus what he had wanted to know.

* * *

An entire week had passed.

"Marcus?" The sound was faint, but it shook all trace of sleep from him. Leaning over the side of the bed, he grasped her hand.

"Shh. Don't try to talk." He said softly, looking around for Stephen, who quickly came over and examined the monitors surrounding her bed.

"What..." She asked, disoriented, and Marcus silenced her again, mustering a reassuring smile while Stephen continued to work on her, setting up a brain scan.

A short time after, he finished and motioned Marcus into a nearby room.

"So?" Marcus asked.

"Well, from what I could see in the scan, it looks like she got lucky. There's no trace of brain damage." Marcus's eyes closed for a moment. "Thank God." He said softly.

"She *will* need to remain very still for several days -the way she was cut up, there's always the chance that her sutures would reopen if she moves too much."

"Sutures?"

"Well, we can accelerate cell division, we do it with broken bones for instance, but it isn't recommended to do it to the extent that would be required to heal this extensive a set of injuries. Oftentimes the old fashioned ways work best." Marcus nodded and both men walked back towards Susan.

* * *

Marcus had finally been persuaded to get some sleep, on the condition that she wouldn't be left alone. The Captain had offered to sit with her.

"Do you remember what happened?" Sheridan asked gently. He had tried to keep her quiet, but that had somehow only succeeded in making her more agitated. It was a feeling he could very much understand.

She shook her head. "All I remember is going to my quarters after we...talked." Sheridan looked away while she continued. "I...I started to..."

"Drink?"

She nodded, staring at the wall. "I don't remember anything after that. Except waking up here, and Stephen telling me I'd been stabbed." They both let the silence drag on.

"I'm so sorry, Susan."

She cut him off. "It's not your fault." She said softly, taking his hand. "You just did what you had to, as my friend and my CO. I don't blame you for what you did, but I just couldn't face you. Or anyone." Her voice was choked.

"It wasn't your fault either, Susan."

She was crying, silently, now. "Yes, it was. I failed you, and I failed everyone. What the hell was I thinking? I'm not supposed to crack. I can take anything."

"No Susan, you can't." He said gently. "Because no one can."

"So what did security find?" She asked, to move the conversation to a somewhat different topic.

"Not much." Sheridan answered. "But we'll find whoever did this to you. I promise." Susan nodded, but said nothing. She had a good idea of just how likely that was.

* * *

"Hello there! How are you today?"

Sometimes cheerfulness was *really* overrated.

"My head feels like a bunch of Pak'ma'ra mistook it for a salad, I can't move without tearing my insides, and my life's shot all to hell. How are you these days Marcus?"

"Fine. Fine." Her response and sarcastic tone didn't seem to phase him. In fact, he seemed really happy these days, which really got on her nerves. And she couldn't even say that he was being insensitive...

No, she definitely couldn't say that he was being insensitive. She looked at the book he had torn the station apart to find for her, another little attention. She was going to have to have a little talk with him about these little attentions sometime.

*Who would have thought he knew Russian poetry?* She thought to herself. He was definitely annoying.

"If you're up for some good news, Stephen says you should be able to leave for your quarters in a few days."

"So soon?" She asked, surprised.

"Well, you have been here for almost three weeks, and he's only planning to let you go back to your quarters to stay in bed. I suppose he thought that you would be more comfortable there, and he was planning to stop by about twice a day." He said cheerfully.

"Mmm-hmmm." Her tone was suspicious.

"And I'll be there 'round the clock to take care of you." He suddenly absorbed himself in a report on his lap.

"What??? I can take care of myself!" She replied indignantly, about ready to relive one of the hernias Stephen had righted some time ago.

"Now, now. That was before, this is now. I talked it over with Stephen, Delenn (who gave me some time off) and the Captain, and they agreed that this was the best solution."

"Oh yeah? For who?" Susan spluttered.

"For everyone, including you."

"Like hell!" She shouted, just as Stephen came in. "You'll drive me insane in just under two days, you know that, don't you? How the hell can this be good for my health? And where the hell do you all get off making decisions about me without consulting me..." She continued shouting as Stephen and Marcus walked out.

"She's a bit cranky, isn't she?" Stephen commented to Marcus. Marcus nodded, smiling.

"Well, I knew telling her wasn't going to be easy..."

* * *

A day later, Susan had been released to Marcus's care. After she had been settled into bed and Stephen had left, Marcus had sprawled out on the couch in Susan's quarters and begun to stare at the ceiling. Susan hadn't been making things easy, but he certainly couldn't blame her.

He turned again. So much for finally getting some sleep. Rising, he walked into the bedroom. Susan was still sleeping.

He stood and watched her for some time. Finally, she moved, and awoke.

"What are you looking at?" She asked sarcastically. Marcus sighed.

"I thought you'd like to know that security may have found something, but I didn't want to wake you..."

Her expression was inscrutable. "What, exactly?"

"Well, some thiefs were arrested a few hours ago while trying to pick pockets in the Zocalo. One of them...had a credit chit in one of his pockets, which turned out to be yours. When security asked him where he got it, he said he had found it lying on the ground. When he was questioned, though, he changed his story and said he stole it from another lurker in Downbelow. The trouble is, he seems to be having some trouble remembering who he stole it from: his description of the man seems to have undergone several 'mutations' the more he got questioned."

"So it looks like they got the right guy." She said quietly.

"His story appears suspicious, anyway." He walked towards the bed and sat down on the edge. He took her hand. "Susan..." he continued softly, "I'm so sorry about what happened to you." He was silent for a moment.

"Anyway, I just wanted you to know that, and to tell you that I plan on being here for you... Because I care about what happens to you."

She didn't reply, and he rose and left the room.

Left alone, Susan buried her face in her pillow and felt tears flow down her face.

* * *

The next few days saw Susan's depression and silences grow. It also became increasingly difficult for Marcus to get her to eat, and he had tried everything.

"Are you hungry?"

"No." She buried herself in her bed.

"Well you haven't eaten since last night, and it's eighteen hundred now. So do you have any preferences?" He repeated his query several times before receiving an answer.

"I have no preferences, because I'm not hungry."

"Well, I'm afraid you're going to eat, or I'll be forced to get nasty. And that means getting Stephen involved, and some rather ugly possibilities, like tube feeding you through your ears." She didn't even chuckle.

"Come on Susan. You need to eat, because if you don't you'll really wind up in medlab. Is that what you want?" There was no response. Sighing, he went into the other room and decided on what he would cook.

Dylan had taught him how to fend for himself, and one aspect of this had been the acquiring of certain culinary skills. He was no Garibaldi, but he could hold his own in a kitchen. He prepared a light meal, including one or two little things which he knew were favorites of hers, and brought it to her.

Bending down, he shook her gently.

"Susan..." He again had to repeat himself several times before she answered.

"Leave me alone."

He repeated himself several times more, receiving no answer, and bent down to shake her again. "Susan..." This time the response was immediate. She sprang up in the bed and threw the tray he had brought to the ground.

"What the *hell* is the matter with you? Why can't you just understand the fact that you and your help are NOT WANTED? What did I ever do to you anyways?"

"Besides being a real pain in the ass?" He answered angrily. "I just want to see you well, is that such a crime? Tell me Susan, before I apologize for the great sin of being your friend, why are you so eager to die? What happened to you, anyway?"

"I'm not..." She began.

"Oh yes you are." He cut her off. "But tell me, Susan. Because you must be one evil bitch to warrant such hatred."

She was still for a moment, and then tears began to course, anew, down her cheeks, while she still held her peace.

Stepping over to her, Marcus sat on the bed and took her in his arms as her sobs became audible.

"It's all right Susan. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. Because I think you're worth the trouble."

* * *

"Easy now..." Marcus said as he helped Susan sit up.

"I can do it myself, you know." She said, irritation in her voice.

"I'm only making sure you follow Stephen's advice and take it easy, Susan." She sighed deeply in response to this, but did not press the issue.

*Which is, in itself, progress.* Marcus thought to himself. It had been a week since Susan's discharge from medlab, and although at first she had refused all help and had actually seemed to desire death, the last day or two had seen her open up enough to let him help her. Some of the time.

He rose and was about to leave the room when she caught his hand.

"Marcus..." She seemed to hesitate. "Marcus I... I just wanted to say that I...understand that you're trying to help me."

She appeared to want to say more, but finally released his hand instead, closing her eyes.

"You're welcome Susan." Marcus replied, smiling, before leaving the room. She watched him leave.

* * *

Three days later she was allowed to get out of bed and walk around her quarters.

Three days more, and she was allowed to leave her quarters -with the understanding that she was not to engage in any strenuous activity. On that day, Marcus decided to take her to see the stars.

Once at the Observation Dome, they stood in silent contemplation for some minutes.

"To the stars we return." Marcus murmured, barely audible.

"I didn't realize how much I'd missed them." Susan said softly. She was smiling. It was the first smile he had seen from her in a long time.

They stayed there for some time.

* * *

It was two hours later when the alarms began to blare throughout the station. Marcus had been taking Susan back to her quarters after a late lunch in the Zocalo.

Susan looked at him. "What's going on?" He shook his head.

"I don't know."

"Shouldn't we go and find out?"

He looked at her for a moment before replying, "No, not you anyway."

"Marcus!..."

"*I* will go and find out. Then I will come back and tell you. *You* will lie down and rest."

There was danger in her eyes for a time, shades of the old Susan Ivanova.

"I *promise* you I will contact you immediately, as soon as I have news." He said as he pushed her inside her quarters, and the door closed behind her before she could protest.

* * *

"What's going on?" Marcus asked as soon as he spotted Garibaldi, in full protective gear.

"Seems someone decided to plant a bomb on Level Three, Blue Sector. We closed off that entire area." Garibaldi answered succinctly as he pushed his way through the crowd in the Zocalo.

As he watched Garibaldi's team move away, Marcus pondered certain facts: the fact was that two months after Clark's demise on Earth, the political situation was extremely unstable -a weak transitional government was presently in power until general elections could be held, and with the even greater uncertainty and distraction among the other worlds surrounding the Vorlons and the Shadows and what they might do next, it was quite possible that someone might try to take advantage of the situation.

Turning, he saw three men watching as the security team departed.

Something about the situation struck him as wrong, and Marcus Cole had learned over long and lonely years to trust his instincts. Drawing his pike out of his pocket, he drifted into the cover of the shadows on one side of the Zocalo marketplace.

He did not have long to wait. It was only a minute after Garibaldi's team had left that the air sparkled with gunfire as the men opened fire on the crowd. Amid the screams of terror, Marcus approached the gunmen and attacked.

With surprise on his side, one gunman fell victim to Marcus's pike before he knew what hit him. The second was dispatched just as quickly, with Marcus only having to reach over the unconscious body of the first to finish him off. Meanwhile, however, the third had had the time to get his bearings, and opened fire.

Marcus saw the PPG fire singe the side of his cape. Raising his pike once more, he brought it to the other's skull, ending it in one blow.

Closing his pike, he turned and surveyed the scene. Vendor stands were askew in many places, with objects littering the floor. There were no wounded that he could see.

He was about to make his way to the nearest station terminal when he realized he was going to have some difficulty walking: the last gunman had apparently been more successful than Marcus had originally thought.

* * *

"So what happened exactly?" Marcus asked as Franklin tended to his wounds, which had in the end turned out to be some relatively minor burns on his left side, but which left him limping a bit. "What's going on?"

"From what I heard, it seems like someone back home wanted to take advantage of the situation there, but felt they had to remove any possible opposition here first." Franklin answered.

"Any word on who and what it was?"

Franklin shook his head. "No. I just heard about this from one of Garibaldi's men when they were bringing back some wounded. I'd guess we'll know soon though -the captain'll probably call a meeting on the situation now that things have calmed down just a little." Marcus was about to reply when Susan burst into medlab.

"What's going on? What happened?"

"What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay in your quarters..." Marcus said.

"You didn't come back, so I went looking. Besides, you didn't really expect me to sit around until you came knocking, did you??"

"Susan..." Marcus began.

"No Marcus, you listen to me. Something big is going down. They need my -our- help. You can't expect me to just sit and do nothing when lives are in danger." In response to Franklin's burgeoning objections she replied," I promise I won't overexert myself." Her eyes were pleading. "Please."

This too was a part of Susan Ivanova that had not seen the day since before she had been removed from duty some weeks ago. Marcus looked towards Franklin.

"All right." Marcus said.

* * *

It had taken some doing to convince Franklin that it was a good idea, and then Sheridan had needed convincing that she was able to handle it. However, two hours later Sheridan was supervising security's ongoing efforts to find and deal with the people involved in the takeover bid on the station, with Ivanova coordinating things from C&C. Marcus assisted in the search using his network of contacts on the station.

Six hours later she looked up as a report she was reading was snatched from her hands. Marcus was standing before her, with said report in hand.

"I promised Stephen and the Captain that I'd make sure you didn't overdo things." He said cheerfully, ignoring her stormy expression.

"So?"

"So, you've been up for over fifteen hours today, and you've been working for six hours now. Since you weren't even supposed to be back on duty, I'd say this qualifies as fulfilling that duty."

"Marcus, we're in the middle of a crisis!..." He interrupted her again.

"There are now security teams posted at all crucial locations on the station, such as the access to the fusion reactor, the docking bays, ambassadorial suites, and so on... The main perps responsible for the bomb and scattered attacks are in custody. The tech teams have looked at all the most obvious possibilities, and have not found any other bombs. Yes, things are still tense and will probably stay that way for a while. But you aren't going to help anything by making yourself ill -especially considering the fact that things are as under control as they're likely to get for a while yet. If you want to be able to help, you need to think of yourself a bit. Now come on."

Sighing, she got up and followed him out, telling herself that when this was all over they would need to have a little conversation about ordering people about.

* * *

"Please Susan! You need to rest!!!" Marcus was saying, somewhat frantic after several lengthy attempts at convincing her.

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean 'no', as in two letters, one comes right after the other in the alphabet."

Marcus put his head in his hands. Why did she have to be so difficult? Especially when he was in the state he was, what with being wounded and all... His head ached.

"Susan..." He was about to begin again when she interrupted him.

"No Marcus, you listen. I've been listening, and I hear what you say. What I'm trying to say is that *you* need to rest too. You were injured this afternoon -yes, I remember that, for all you tried to downplay it- and then you ran around the station for a good part of the day." She paused for a moment before continuing. "You took care of me Marcus, and... I'm grateful. Now I'm returning the favor, and you can take it or leave it. And so before I go to sleep like you asked, I'm going to see to it that you take care of yourself."

Marcus was a little taken aback. She was concerned about him, and that was why she had refused to cooperate! A smile dawned on his face.

"You win." He said.

* * *

He fell asleep almost immediately after lying down on the couch in her quarters -said couch had already become second nature to him with the events of the past month. Susan had tried to get him to go back to his quarters to sleep in a real bed, but he had refused, still feeling responsible for her. He awoke a short time later however, feeling rather disoriented. Raising himself up, he limped over to the kitchen area, pouring himself a glass of water.

He turned when he heard someone behind him.

"Oh, you're up." She said as she came up to him in the darkened room. Her head hurt, but she couldn't sleep. It seemed the wolf hadn't spared either of them tonight.

He nodded, looking at her. Her eyes shone softly in the darkness as they stood there.

Looking away, he brought the glass to his lips. Funny, somehow everything seemed to taste different tonight.

"Have you heard how things on the station are going?" She asked him, her voice sounding somehow intrusive to her ears in the thick silence.

He shook his head. "No, I just got up. But I know that if they needed us, they would tell us." She nodded.

The silence grew leaden, and he watched as a curl slipped down over her brow. Without a thought, he brought a hand to her hair, trembling, feeling the silky soft curls.

"We'd better sleep, we have a long day tomorrow." She said suddenly, her voice choked.

Turning and disappearing in her room, she left him standing there, alone.

* * *

  
The days after the terrorist incursion on Babylon 5 were pure chaos.

Civilians, informed of the details of the situation, could not get off the station fast enough. The overloaded dockworkers were working as fast as they could.

The medlabs were trying to prepare for any and all possibilities and tending to wounded from the previous attack simultaneously. Meanwhile, station security was on high alert, watching all critical areas of the station against further attacks.

And for the command crew who were the station's administration, it was a nightmare -and one signed, sealed, delivered and detailed on sheets of paper in soothing pastel hues.

Paperwork. Right there you had one thing about this situation that ticked Susan Ivanova off: the ones who got punished were not only the ones that blew things up. Several days after the terrorist attack she was still reeling from the paperwork of it.

 _Now there's an idea. Get criminals to process paperwork -don't even bother with_ _mindwipe and all that... You'd probably see a sizeable reduction in crime rates_ _as soon as people realized just what FUN that entails..._

"Security to Commander Ivanova -" Her link cut into her thoughts.

"Ivanova here."

"Look, I know it's still kinda crazy around here Commander, but we can work you in now if you've got a minute."

Work her in? She shrugged, then sighed. "What the hell, let's get it over with. I'll be right there."

The 'working her in' meant that overworked station security had finally found the time to get up a lineup to see if she remembered the face of the man they said had to have stabbed her in Downbelow. As far as she was concerned, this was a waste of time seeing as she didn't remember anything from that night, but she had still agreed to give it a try. Security had been busy even before the terrorists had struck: tension had been high due to the Shadow/Vorlon threat and that had made keeping the peace difficult.

*Peace? What peace?* She thought sarcastically.

* * *

  
"Look, I *told* you before. I don't remember. I STILL don't remember, and staring at all these people is not going to help that any!"

The security officer facing her held his hands out to stop her complaint, then sighed."All right then, I understand, Commander. We've got the right guy, and we'll nail him anyways, the proof's all there. We didn't really need you to be able to pick him out anyway."

The man moved away to dismiss the retinue of average height, dirty, nondescript men on the other side of the viewscreen. Ivanova turned to Garibaldi, who had insisted on being present for this.

 _Does everyone think I'm made of glass these days?_  She asked herself, and sighed mentally. _Then again, can I blame them? I guess I shouldn't have yelled at the guy._

"Is he telling me the truth?" She asked him, looking him right in the eye.

Garibaldi nodded. "I'd say there's enough physical evidence to convict him. Your testimony would have helped, but it isn't essential. And as for it being him who stabbed you, both my gut and the evidence say it is. I'd say that this one is relatively straightforward: he stabbed you when you were in Downbelow, and stole your credit chit. He was broke and he's addicted to some of the nastier drugs lurkers get hooked on -so he's got a motive. He had the credit chit in his pocket when we caught him. DNA scans confirm your blood was on his clothing, and his prints and DNA are on the weapon. There's other things that point to him too." She nodded. Michael knew she liked things told to her straight.

"Thanks." She said simply and succinctly, and left.

* * *

  
Her next few days were hectic, beginning early and ending late. She had no intention of letting her friends down again. In her mind, it was very simple: they needed her, and she was fine now. As for Marcus... She became very good at avoiding him. She didn't want to think on the why. He simply made her uncomfortable, that was all.

As she stepped into her quarters on the fourth night after the terrorist attack and smelled a delicious smell coming from the vicinity of her kitchen, she saw that she apparently hadn't succeeded at avoiding him completely.

 _I knew you wouldn't take the time to eat._ The note said, _So I left you a little_ _something I raided from Garibaldi's kitchen._  The lasagna turned out to be delicious.

His meddling in her life, however, wasn't.

* * *

  
During the following weeks things went from bad to worse.

With everyone on the station keeping themselves forever ready for another attack, tension and fear began to create problems of their own. Between maintaining patrols against terrorist attempts and policing the increasingly restless population, station security was stretched to the limit.

Tension also increased for Susan Ivanova. The temporary reinstatement she had obtained from Sheridan was subject to several conditions. He had pointed out sadly that he was already going against regulations in allowing her to return to her duties, and would not have done so if he had not needed her so badly, and were it not for the medlab shrink she had been assigned and required to visit who had been of the opinion that returning to duty for the time being was perhaps best, as she had to deal with "a certain level of guilt regarding desertion of her colleagues". As it was, the simple fact of the matter was that the no one else save Delenn had sufficient leadership experience, and Delenn did not have anywhere near the knowledge of day to day station operations that Ivanova did.

Beyond that, Delenn was already busy dealing with the other situation on their hands: belligerent races who truly believed they possessed the exclusive right to explore and strip Z'ha'dum, the Vorlon homeworld and other worlds occupied until recently by the First Ones for any technology they could find.

Therein lay another problem facing everyone. So far, apparently no one had succeeded in removing anything, and there was the very real chance of booby traps against looting which made many hesitate to undertake such ventures, but squabbling over the rights to this technology had already begun. Sheridan had the Whitestar fleet keep a close eye on the comings and goings near those worlds, still this was yet another potentially volatile situation facing them.

The conditions Sheridan had imposed before allowing her to return to duty were to have a professional counsellor referred by Franklin (in other words, the aforementioned shrink) monitor her daily, and to have her blood alcohol levels checked twice daily. The temporary compromise was that as long as she stayed sober and worked on her problems, she could keep her job.

As days and then weeks passed, memory of her attack receded somewhat in the minds of those around her, and she took on more responsibilities. She went faithfully every day, twice a day to have her blood tested, and managed to sit through the obligatory counseling sessions, useless though she believed those to be. Seeking help, especially professional, had always seemed like a display of weakness to her. Another paternal legacy, and one that told her that she would deal with what ailed her in her own time and in her own way, as she always had.

Her days were long, and her nights even longer. Whenever she managed to see her bed, her sleep was visited by ghosts which her usual nightime remedy, now forbidden, could not dispel. And there was not always time for sleep. In fact, there was harly ever anytime to sleep. Her only consolation during this time was that Marcus was sent away on a mission for two weeks. When he was there she managed to avoid him -most of the time. Despite her best efforts he did catch up with her occasionally, and he always meddled. Or tried to.

Such was the state of things when, three months after returning to duty, medlab personnel found her unconscious on the floor of her quarters and discovered a lethal mixture of alcohol and an illegal drug known as rhosaprine (known in the netherworlds as "the big O" for the extreme rush of pleasure it gave users) in her bloodstream.

* * *

  
Consciousness came to her slowly, by soft yet clinging layers. Her first realization of the outside was that a hand was holding hers. She eventually managed to open her eyes.

"Hello Susan." It was Marcus.

"Oh. It's you." She croaked belligerently. And closed her eyes again.

"Yes, unfortunately."

 _Yes, it's me, my dearest love. Did you think you could be rid of me so easily?_ _Do you think I don't hear you screaming inside, screaming your silent pain the way I_ _scream mine? I understand you. I can feel you as clearly as I feel my own beating_ _heart, or my own breath. Because you are my breath, and my heart. Were I to die, I_ _would stay here by you still. I will help you heal, despite yourself. I will do this_ _without wishing for anything in return -and if you never feel for me and yet live a_ _happy life I will feel blessed. And selfish, perhaps, for in helping you to happiness_ _I will perhaps once again see the light of your smile._

And so Marcus stayed, and thought all the things he could never say aloud.

* * *

  
"I'm sorry Marcus, but I'm finding it hard to just put this behind me. Susan, my *friend*, almost died. Again." Sheridan repeated.

Marcus looked down at the other man, seated at his office desk. "It wasn't your fault."

Sheridan shook his head. "No. The regs were clear -I should never have let her back on duty. And the result demonstrates just how wrong I was."

Marcus put his hands on the desk and faced him. "I disagree." He hesitated a moment before straightening again, and continued, "I know you lost a great many friends and people you cared about. If Susan were in this room now, I think she would be reminding you that not everything is your fault. You did what you could, in an essentially untenable situation."

Sheridan looked at Marcus with some surprise, then, "You've been spending time with Susan Ivanova, that much's obvious." He said finally, smiling.

Marcus nodded. "I love her." He said simply, and plowed through Sheridan's even greater surprise at this matter of fact admission. "I want to take care of her. More than anything, I want her to find joy again. Joy to fill the emptiness."

Sheridan looked at him quietly for a moment. "And you think that'll help?" He asked.

Marcus looked him straight in the eye. "It did for me."

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

_You really are hovering, you know._ Susan Ivanova thought to herself as she watched Marcus flutter about her room supposedly putting things to rights. _In two minutes, I_ _'m going to do something really drastic. Maybe if I pulled your_ _pants up over your head, tied them off and... Maybe if I used_ _that damn pike you're so proud of? What if I sealed the whole_ _thing up with magnetic clamps?_

"Susan?"

She sighed. "Yes Marcus?" Why couldn't he leave her the hell alone? The physical side of her condition had required her to stay only a few days in medlab (after which she had been deemed fully recovered physically), but everyone had apparently agreed that the emotional side of it required constant supervision and frequent counseling sessions -and those latter at least tended to be about as pleasant as a rectal exam. Since everyone on station including Medlab personnel was swamped by emergencies (often due to the tense situation on station), the person chosen to "oversee her recovery" was Marcus bloody Cole. She had been released from medlab two days ago, and had spent all her time so far in bed.

*I really screwed things up this time, didn't I?*

"Are you hungry?" Marcus cut into her thoughts. Susan shook her head and closed her eyes. If only she could sleep.

"Is there anything special you'd like to do?" She shook her head again.

There was silence for a moment, and then she started when she felt him take her hand in his.

"Then maybe you'd like to talk." He said quietly, holding her hand.

She shook her head, and his hand tightened about hers.

"You have to talk about it sometime. When you're ready to do that, I want you to remember that I'm here to listen. You're not alone." He paused for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had a pleading note to it. "I care about you. I'm your friend. Please remember that."

He stood and went back to the chair he had recently vacated, by her bedside. Refusing to even argue with him over the need to watch over her while she slept, Susan closed her eyes.

Ghosts visited her sleep, as usual.

* * *

  
"Susan?" The figure standing before her in the mist called to her. Her face was an accusation.

"Talia? How can you be here? You're... I must be..."

The other lifted a finger, and pointed it at her silently. Accusingly?

"What?" Susan asked. There was no answer.

The dream shifted and she found herself gazing at her brother, proud in his Earthforce pilot's uniform. He looked at her silently and walked away to his ship. The ship rose into space and exploded.

Another shift.

She found herself staring at her brother, proud in his Earthforce pilot's uniform. He looked at her silently and walked away towards his ship.

"Ganja!" She began running.

Shift. She was still running, because she needed to save someone. Or was it more than one? No, that wasn't it. She began running away from darkness, a hideous monster which pursued her relentlessly. Through an endless maze of corridors, hidden doors, and secret passageways she ran, but still that other seemed to always find her.

* * *

  
When she awoke, her sheets were wet with her own sweat. Turning her head, she noticed that Marcus had fallen asleep in his chair.

The darkness that had pursued her through dream mazes seemed to be all around her: in the shadows clothing the ceiling, the further shadows filling the edges of her bed, and ethereal fingers seemed to be touching Marcus, obscenely caressing his face as he slept.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

*Calm down, you idiot.* She told herself harshly. Remembrance that she was an adult and that there were no monsters hiding under her bed made the darkness fade into a simple and rational absence of light.

Absence of light and noise and purpose in her immediate life, however, put her face to face with her soul. And a wounded one it was.

 _I know Sheridan and the others all wondered how I did this_ _to myself a second time. How did I do it? The funniest part_ _of the whole thing is that I don't even remember._

In truth, all she remembered was needing some air, a few nights ago.

 _In truth, I remember more than that, don't I?_ She had stopped at some Downbelow bar, and had ordered a drink.

 _Just one drink, yes sir._ She remembered the one turning to two, three, to many. She also remembered pain, her pain, bright as if floodgates had opened in her heart. In truth, she remembered nothing much after that, except a feeling of desperately wanting the pain to stop. All she could figure was that she must have gotten pretty damn drunk to be stupid enough to try some of the stronger stuff that had ended up in her system. What the hell was wrong with her?

Pain.

"Marcus?" She said quickly. He jerked awake at the sound of her voice.

"Yes Susan?" He rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, I guess I must have fallen asleep. Can I do something for you?"

"Talk to me, Marcus."

"Of what?" He asked.

"Of anything." She leaned her head on her elbow as she half turned toward him. "Talk to me so I don't go crazy from listening to my own thoughts." She added softly.

Understanding filled his eyes, and he began talking.

He talked to her of joy and sadness, but mostly of joy. He related to her various epic stories from many worlds, interspersed with some of the silliest stories she had ever heard, and she laughed.

He was still talking when she fell asleep.

* * *

  
In the morning things were much the same, and she awoke from dreams she blessedly did not remember.

"Hello Susan. I thought you might like breakfast." Already awake? Didn't the man ever sleep?

She studied the food he had put before her and leaned back against her pillows. "I'm sorry Marcus, I'm just not..."

"...not hungry. Well, won't you even try?" He reclaimed his seat by her bedside, and gazed at her for a moment. "Please?" He asked gently.

Looking at him, she was forcefully reminded of one thing: she owed him. Looking away, she began to eat.

She spent the rest of the day in her quarters -she had no wish to go out. Not yet. Somehow though, when she could have gone insane from seeing the same walls and ceiling and more so from staring at her own thoughts, she was kept from it: she had never known her faithful companion could be so inventive. The instant her thoughts drifted and threatened to become dreary, he seemed to find some riveting book to read to her or story to tell, or managed to invent some silly game that left her laughing one moment, and the next wondering that she still remembered how. That night he slept on the floor of her room rather than in her chair, and she could not help wondering at him.

Her dreams were once again filled with pain.

* * *

  
The next days followed a simple pattern: waking or sleeping, Marcus somehow never left her side. When she wanted to be alone, he simply went to the other room of her quarters and remained there until she called him back. She was never truly alone.

Days passed, and then some few weeks. Except for brief calls or visits from friends such as Sheridan, Delenn and the others, and brief yet excrutiating visits to her 'counsellor', it was almost as if the outside world had somehow ceased to exist, or at least stopped for the time being. She asked Sheridan once how things stood on the station and elsewhere, but he shook his head.

"When you're ready to come back, you'll come back. Now is the time for you to do other things." It appeared they had all given themselves the word, as they all carefully avoided any mention of work around her.

And so time passed.

* * *

  
She awoke. The nightmarish visitations of sleep ceased tormenting her then, but the pain did not relent. It was always present, her pain, waking or sleeping, a deep blood red ocean tinged with brown disgust.

_Once I stop running I fall apart. Is that how it is?_

She turned her head. Marcus was once again sitting by her bedside, asleep now.

 _I wonder why you stay._ She said mutely, then paused for a moment. _Or do I? Deep down... I know why you stay. Still, I wonder why you do. I've done everything except make things easy or pleasant for you._ There was a heavy sense of guilt in that last, a feeling that fell like a drop into the ocean, making it overflow in powerful waves. 

She began to cry -softly, as she hated weepy displays, most of all coming from herself. The ocean grew tumultuous and swept over her as she began to sob her agony.

Something touched her shoulder. The world moved, and she realized she was sitting up, and being held. By this point she couldn't halt her tears, and held on to him as a fellow human presence in the night. After some time, she understood with a start that he was crying as well. She held him harder.

She wept until she no longer had the strength to weep, and then stayed where she was, trembling, unable to move for a time. Finally, she pulled herself away. The darkness still enveloped them, yet even it could not hide the deep sadness and pain in his eyes. Thinking of comfort, she leaned forward, and kissed him. And found herself swept up again.

She held on to him with all her strength as she pressed her body to his. After a slight moment's hesitation, she felt his arms surround her and hold her to him. Their breathing quickened. She kissed him again, and again, and he brought a hand to her hair.

Drawing away slightly, she brought her lips to below his ear, and began slowly, softly, to work her way down his neck. She felt him draw in a breath -a short gasp for air. Raising her head, she looked in his eyes, into his soul, and stopped.

He stared back at her as she shook her head.

"I can't do this to you Marcus." She whispered to him, before pushing him away from her, off the bed and towards the chair.

"I'm sorry." She said finally. She knew he didn't understand, and that she had hurt him. Explaining, though, would have been worse. Turning her back on him, she laid down again. Sleep didn't come, but the pain, ah yes, the pain did come.

* * *

  
Come morning her room was even drearier looking than usual. 

 _Oh wow, it really is morning now, isn't it._ Thought Susan dryly. It had been one heck of a long night. With morning come, and with daylight lighting her thoughts and actions, she felt the pressure in her chest increase. Her pain. Marcus was still sleeping, on her floor this time. She waited for him to wake.

Looking up at her, he ran a hand through his hair. At that moment, having only just awakened, his heart beat on his face. Quickly, he stood and left the room.

 _Am I alone now?_ She wondered, looking at the door. Fear grabbed at her heart.

He did take a bit longer than usual before --

"Susan? Are you ready to eat?" He asked, coming into the bedroom.

"I --" She began, before he interrupted her.

"Eat. It's all right." He said gently. There was something in his voice at those last words which sounded rather like reassurance. His face showed nothing.

 _Sometimes masks reveal as much as they hide, you know._ She thought sadly, and began eating.

She wasn't alone: the day unfolded much like the last. That night was also uneventful, as was the next day, and the one after that. What had happened that other night was never referred to. Marcus stayed with her, always.

* * *

Several mornings later, she found herself enduring that most dreaded of rituals: her counselling session. Marcus had by exception left the duty of escorting her to others this morning, having left for one of his meetings with Delenn some time before.

 _She isn't so bad, really._ Her counsellor was Dr. Mayfair, a pretty blond haired woman about her age, with a friendly smile to boot.

 _I still hate this._ What it was she hated, she couldn't put her finger on exactly, except that a discussion with Lisa, as Dr. Mayfair preferred to be addressed, felt like having her gums extracted. Or her bleeding innards scooped out and put on the table for forensic scientist to examine with the most sophisticated of microscopes and the most primitive of digging instruments. Or...

"Susan?"

"Dr. Mayfair?"

The other woman sighed softly, rubbing her temples.  
  
The door chime sounded, and both jumped. The session was not even halfway through. "Come in." Mayfair said finally.

Stephen Franklin stepped through the door, looking to Ivanova. "Susan, there's trouble."

* * *

  
Some days before, Sheridan had left Babylon 5 to mediate in a dispute between the Drazi and the Centauri Republic. Longtime competitors for trade, the two already belligerent races had collided once too often in their "explorations" of Shadow space.

After the First Ones left, the main concern at first had been to ensure that they were indeed gone. However as fears slowly began to fade, simple greed had manifested itself (as well as the idea, present in so many sentient races' minds, that if there was anything to find they should not risk others getting there first), and the previously cautious explorations of the concerned sectors of space by various frightened 'younger' races gave way to something else. Disputes began to be more concerned with rights to whatever was present, Sheridan and Delenn had therefore agreed (since, among other things, Whitestar vessels had been there first) to allow full access to the planets formerly occupied by the First Ones. Full access, so that everyone could see they were not merely concerned with their own interests. Fully supervised access, so that war did not break out over any potential spoils.

Supervision meant a heavy Whitestar and Ranger presence in the areas of space in question, forces which had as mandate to ensure that discoveries were shared, and disputes avoided if possible, settled if necessary. Rangers, for example, were required to be present during any and all planetary expeditions.

All in all, no easy task.

As it turned out, Sheridan's aforementioned departure had the unintended consequence of encouraging other elements to act.

* * *

  
"What happened?" Ivanova asked Franklin after they had left Dr. Mayfair. The latter had offered her help -and Stephen had gotten a good look at Susan's face before gently telling Dr. Mayfair that he would handle this himself.

Ivanova now heard a tremor in her voice, and felt a premonitory something clutch at her heart.

"You know that the anti-alien and other groups that were causing trouble back home are on the run now that the interim government has started hunting them down." It wasn't a question, and yet she nodded: that had been all over the newsnets. The groups in question had used the chaos following Clark's sudden removal from office as well as elaborate terror tactics to gain influence back home, and public pressure had been increasing exponentially to have something done about them.

Stephen suddenly stopped and turned towards her, taking her hands gently, as if trying to prepare her. "With what's been happening back home, our buddies have been on the run. They obviously wanted to go out in a blaze of glory."

"What?" She asked. He sighed.

"Their reasoning isn't difficult to follow and I imagine that was the point. They hit us once before. This place is associated with Sheridan, and he took Clark out of power. Many of these guys were friendly with Clark. They also pretty much all think that we're really tight with aliens. Way too tight: among other things, Sheridan's even arried to one of them now. They already hit us once, and this time, it was supposed to be their last act. Their blaze of glory, for the loyal little goddamned crazies they are." There was anger in his voice.

"They picked their target. It was going to be Delenn: she was the perfect representation of everything they wanted to say. It would've also caused some blame to be put on Sheridan -happening on his station. And what with Sheridan away and everyone here more or less distracted, they figured now might be the time to move." Suddenly he paused.

"So what happened?" She asked him. He didn't answer for a moment.

"They meant to kidnap her and hold her, I think. Probably drag it out for as long as they could, and then kill her. It wouldn't have been all that difficult to do: she still does everything low key, and so does Sheridan."

"She was walking alone with Marcus in Green sector this morning. Just outside her quarters. About ten of them came up and tried to make a grab for her then. She and Marcus managed to fight them off, but... Marcus was wounded, Susan. Badly."

She heard him through a world suddenly become gray. Everything was gray. She heard the thundering rhythm of her blood in her veins.

"Is he going to live?" She heard herself ask. Franklin looked at her. He still held her hands.

"I honestly don't know Susan. I had some time, and I thought you should hear it from me. We've done everything we can for him."

"I want to see him." She said.

He nodded. "I'll take you there."

* * *

  
Stephen had taken her to his bedside, and left her there. She had barely heard his explanation of Marcus' condition. Everything was quiet, which gave her ample room to feel.

 _I haven't really felt anything in a long time._ She felt, now. She couldn't help it anymore.

Pain. So blazingly bright she could hardly breathe.

Years upon years of it, years she had not allowed herself to feel, that she had run from that feeling. Running. Yes. She had run for years.

She sat numbly by Marcus' bedside, and listened to it, and to all the dead voices from her somber past. Her hand clutched his in a grip her mind had now forgotten. Unconscious still, he clutched hers in return.

Startled, she looked down at him.

 _I am not giving up._ His touch had somehow seemed to say, _And I am not giving you up._

Tears filled her eyes, and a sudden realization made her gasp as she brought his hand to her cheek.

_I love you, Marcus Cole._

* * *

  
Her heart was a conflicting mass of emotions, a pattern of such variegated bright colors that she became lost in that brightness, no matter where she gazed.

It had been almost five days, and Marcus' condition -deep stab wounds, PPG burns and blood loss were all she could recall of Stephen's reports- had not changed. She had sat by his bedside, unrelenting despite the gentle pressures from Stephen Franklin and other medlab personnel who tried to get her to rest. Delenn and a few others had dropped in a few times to see Marcus.

 _To see both of us, perhaps?_ She shrugged. _Oh well._  
  
She remembered well what she had promised him when she sat with him during that first night...

"I know you can't hear me Marcus, but I'm going to tell you anyways. I should have told you this before. I should've realized it before, too, but I  
didn't. I love you." She had paused for a moment at that point.

"I love you, and I pray you'll wake up so I can tell you everything I should have told you before. That I love your kindness, your gentleness, the way you manage to find humor in so many things. The way your eyes look at me when you think I don't see you." She shook her head and continued in an even softer tone. "I've never met anyone quite like you. You truly are one of the finest and most selfless people I have ever known."

"I've been angry and cold with you when you asked for so little in return for all you gave me. The truth is that I was afraid. Afraid of what might happen if I loved you and lost you. Afraid to feel anything at all, because it would bring me pain. Afraid to lose control, except when I'd drunk enough that it didn't matter to me anymore."

"All I can say is that I'm sorry, and that I'll do everything I can to make it up to you."

She remembered, and now added something else as she held his hand.

"You've got to come back to me Marcus. Because if you die, I will too."

* * *

 

[Author's note: Many thanks go to my best friend Angela for beta reading. Thanks and apologies also to Alicia and Rain and everyone who wrote me about this story.] 

* * *

  
"Susan?"

"Susan?"

She jolted back to awareness.

"Yes?" Franklin stood before her. "I'm awake." She added, attempting to forestall the inevitable comments about how she needed to sleep. It seemed to be the first thing people said to her these days.

Franklin sighed, his eyes sad, then left. He had figured out by now that it was useless to press the issue.

Now awake, her brooding resumed. A tear slid down her cheek as she continued to hold the hand she had held since first coming to medlab -what seemed like an eternity ago. What mighht have been, what might never be. What she might never have again. What she had ignored out of fear.

 _I hurt. Oh God, but it hurts. If he has to die, why can't I_ _die too?_ She had nothing left save pain, not even the strength for tears which wouldn't come.

Time crept by, the hours passed. Some time later, Stephen came back to check on them.

"He's doing -"

"Pretty much the same." She finished for him. Franklin nodded. He'd long ago run out of things to say to her. What was there to say?

"Sometimes things do turn out well." He said. She nodded, but he could tell she hadn't heard him. He sat with them for a while, as he did whenever he could. Friends did drop by often, although much of the time she was alone.

She was always alone when it came to facing her personal demons.

* * *

  
She was dreaming, her head pillowed on her hands, his hand still held in hers.

In the dream, she felt the flutter of a bird's wings... It was the first soothing thing her dreams had brought her in some time. She felt another flutter, and suddenly awoke.

His fingers were moving against her face, fluttering gently. His eyes, open but full of confusion, were looking toward her. Her heart suddenly thundered in her chest.

"Susan." He whispered.

* * *

  
"Will he be all right?" Susan asked Stephen again, trying to remain calm. Outwardly, at least. Inside was a hopeless matter.

"Things are looking very promising. He's recovered consciousness and doesn't seem to be suffering any kind of impairment -we did a brain scan, which showed no anomalies, which might've been the case with that head wound. His vital organs seem to be healing up nicely. I'm telling you what I can tell you Susan: it looks really promising. But he still has a long road ahead of him before he's fully recovered."

"I sense a 'but' in there." Franklin nodded. Direct. That was Susan.

"There may still be complications, Susan. Several of his vital organs were pretty badly hit. We'll have to wait and see before I can tell you anything for certain. I'm sorry Susan." He was surprised, somewhat shocked even, when she put her arms around him and hugged him briefly.

"I know you are. Thanks for everything you've done." She said softly, before returning to Marcus' bedside.

* * *

  
During the long days that followed, Marcus continued living, and continued healing. Susan almost never left his side, wearing herself out with constant vigil. Until one day...

She had been reading to him, trying to lull him to sleep, when she raised her head and realized her wish for sleep had worked only too well -but on the wrong person.

Marcus was speaking to her. "You should sleep, you know." He scolded her. "You don't have to be here 'round the clock. I also remember that it was you lying here not too long ago. Go. I'll still be here, you know." He patted one of her hands as she rubbed her tired eyes with the other. Because of her fatigue, those last words took some time to register. She looked up at him then, her fatigue forgotten.

"You almost did leave me -us, you know." She said.  
  
She was suddenly drawn to his eyes, to the heartfelt emotion shining in their depths.

 _You're here. I can speak to you._ The thought rang through her head, and she felt those blazing bright colors anew. In that instant of understanding and mingled pain and joy, she finally pushed her fears aside. Life was too short and precious to deny what it offered. And so she spoke what colored her heart.

"I love you. And just so you know, every breath I breathe echoes yours, just as every beat of my heart beats in time with yours: if you ever die, Marcus Cole, I will too." She had to leave the room then -for old habits of silence are hard to break.

Marcus didn't sleep a wink.

* * *

  
Marcus' thoughts dwelled on the difference a few spoken words could create. Words could be paltry and pale, but they could also do so much, change so much, when spoken at the proper time.

He realized he had lost track of what she was saying to him.

She had the loveliest eyes he had ever seen -a blue-green shade, which changed with her moods. His eyes followed a stray wisp of hair as it fluttered down gently to tickle the skin of her neck.

She loved him. She had said it, and she seemed now to repeat it in every possible way: as their eyes met again, she smiled. There was that indefinable tentative and delicious quality to her smile, reproduced in his answering smile.

Her eyes told him whenever he met them. Her hands spoke of it when they took his, seemingly as though she were afraid he would vanish into some ethereal mist. Simple things, yet so eloquent. He smiled joyfully as she looked up and their eyes met again, and raised a hand to replace that opportune lock of hair as he remembered...

He had told her of his feelings for her, once she had returned to his bedside that night, though he had been certain she knew already. Saying the words had not been difficult -both then and now he wanted to shout it from the proverbial rooftops.

 _I love you too._ He had said as soon as she had come back. _I_ _don't want to be apart from you, not now, not ever._

And so the past few days had been filled with stolen glances -eyes would meet, gazes which were seemingly inocuous and yet full of quiet joy. Filled also with brief touches -seemingly innocent- as their hands would brush and then take hold of one another. In truth, it had been difficult to pay heed to anything except for one another. Difficult to pay heed to anything, save one fact of course: Marcus, by all accounts, continued to heal.

"Earth to Marcus." Her soft voice took him from his thoughts. Her eyes were bright with amusement, and he realized he had been staring at her for the past few minutes.

He smiled, "Sorry, I guess I got a bit distracted there."

* * *

  
Marcus lay ensconced in his own bed. _It was about time._ He thought somewhat peevishly, _I got to be royally tired of_ _staring at that medlab ceiling._ There was the same bright light on his horizon, however.

Susan was with him -she had insisted on doing for him as he had done for her, and had cared for him since his release from medlab.

From Susan's point of view, the bright light was the fact that after almost a month in medlab, Marcus had received a clean bill of health: he was going to make a complete recovery. Stephen had stated quite emphatically that the only necessary ingredient was rest, a directive Susan had emphatically assured Stephen they would honor (Marcus had merely borne a long-suffering expression on his face). In truth, however, he was touched by everyone's concern.

Susan walked into Marcus's room, bearing a tray. "There you go."

He looked down at the food tray she had just placed on his lap.

"I have to go pick up a few things we'll be needing. And you're going to eat every last bite of that." She ordered, helping him sit up.

He paused. She looked at him expectantly.

"You know," He began, "I don't know about this."

"Oh?" A raised eyebrow.

"I truly don't mean to sound ungrateful, but... What *is* this, anyway?"

There was a definite twinkle in her eyes. "It's spoo." Puzzled, Marcus waited for her to continue. "You know, you were unconscious for a while and, well, there were a lot of people that wanted to do something to help. Especially since everyone knows I was sick not too long ago..."

"It's Centauri. Londo had Vir prepare it. G'kar, Delenn, John, Michael, they all wanted to do something."

"Really." She nodded, and sat. There was a definite twinkle in her eyes.

"Are you *really* going to make me eat this?" He finally asked. He had heard about the stuff, and the Centauri seemed to like it. The problem was that it smelled...

She was smiling now.

"It'd be too bad to let good food just go to waste you know. And you ain't seen nothing yet. Wait until I get John to cook for you."

Marcus chuckled. "That bad, hmm?"

Susan nodded. "He tried to make something for a staff party one time. All I can say is that if we could have bottled the burnt smell, none of us would've ever needed PPGs again." They both laughed.

Rising, she took his tray from him and left it in the kitchen area.

"I don't suppose you could just stay here with me, could you?" He asked as she passed by his bed again.

She smiled as she bent down and kissed him -gently, softly, and with promise. Pulling back slightly, she felt his hands frame her face.

"I love you so much." He whispered. At other times, he admitted, words could be so pale, so inert...

She looked into his eyes and offered what never ceased to amaze him, "I love you too."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...


End file.
